


And the Bells Were Ringing Out

by gotatheory



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Apparently it's a rule that my Advent fics have weddings at Christmas, F/M, Minor Golden Queen, OQ Advent 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 00:18:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotatheory/pseuds/gotatheory
Summary: A year after their breakup, Robin learns Regina is getting married. He can't stop thinking about it.





	And the Bells Were Ringing Out

****

**Despite his acceptance of the technology that pervades every aspect of life, Robin Locksley is a simple man at his core. It’s that desire for simplicity that has him opening up the Storybrooke Gazette, instead of turning to his phone or laptop for news. The local paper is always how he starts his day, along with the strongest cup of coffee imaginable and a bagel, and today is no different.**

****

Sometimes, he hates how he lets certain routines dictate his life.

****

As he stares at the headline _Mayor’s daughter to wed hotel tycoon_ , this is definitely one of those times.

****

Robin couldn’t tell you the last time he thought of Regina Mills — because she’s always in his thoughts, a recurring player in his subconscious that he’s never been able to shake. Not even when she walked out of his life over a year ago, and he let her because of anger, and stubbornness, and his own damn foolish ego.

****

She’s everywhere, whether he could tame his own mind when it comes to her or not, because she’s such an integral part of this city. The public face of the Mayor’s office, because she’s more palatable than her bitch of a mother ever could be. (There is no love lost between him and Mayor Mills, no way there could be after all the snide comments she used to make to his face when he was dating her daughter.) So yes, he’s thought of Regina often, and he’s especially been thinking of her now, as October gives way to November, and the anniversary of their breakup approaches.

****

He didn’t know she had been seeing anyone, but then again, why would he? He hadn’t spoken to her since their separation, had cut off all possible contact with her after that fateful fight.

****

Well. Clearly she’s found someone her mother approves of, if the words _hotel tycoon_ were any indication, not to mention the photo of the happy couple splashed across the front page with the facade of City Hall in the background. Against his better judgment, Robin examines the picture, can’t miss the garishly large diamond adorning Regina’s finger (her hand is, of course, extended and facing out so that the camera can catch it), but it’s her face he lingers on.

****

She’s beautiful, of course.

****

Stunning, as always.

****

Even with the smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she gazes at her fiancé, she’s breathtaking, and he pushes down the swell of emotion that tries to rise in his chest.

****

Robin recognizes her fiancé, has heard too much about Iain Gold, from his somewhat questionable business practices but also from Regina herself. Gold is a friend of her mother’s, from what he recalls (quite a good friend, if rumors were to be believed), and it all seems to make a bit more sense when he considers that. He can’t imagine Regina wanting to marry anyone her mother associated with, but when he remembers Cora’s cruel remarks toward him and Regina’s ever-frustrating desire to try to make her mother happy, he supposes it makes sense in the end.

****

Okay. He’s seen the picture, and read the accompanying blurb that details just where and when the lavish ceremony will take place (right before Christmas, of course, because the lovebirds can’t wait any longer and what better time to celebrate than the holidays), and he should put the paper down now. He can go back to not (really) thinking of Regina Mills at all, and focus on his life, his work, and move on.

****

That is what he should do, but what he actually does is reach for his mobile, unlocking it and thumbing to his contacts.

****

She’s still listed in his phone — not as Regina Mills, not anymore. He couldn’t bear to delete her, something his mates thought absolutely hilarious and pathetic in turns. They’d convinced him (or taken his phone and did it by force) to change her to something at least less… tempting to click on.

****

An apple, because of her obsession with the fruit, surrounded by X’s and danger signs and no entry warnings.

****

He needs better friends, but more importantly, in this moment, he needs better self-control.

****

Before he knows it, he’s typing out a text, a to-the-point _Congratulations on the engagement_ that sounds… terse. Probably more than it should, because they haven’t spoken in a year, but it’s done now and he can’t take it back.

****

For a moment he stares at it, not waiting for her response, of course not. He’s thinking of something else, about his plans for the day, about anything other than Regina Mills and Iain Gold. But because he has left the text up, he sees the three telltale dots appear, and then go away, and appear again. They stop once more, and it’s maybe another forty-five seconds before they appear and quickly fade, a reply replacing them this time.

****

_I’m sorry, who is this?_

****

Robin scowls, thinking about how he couldn’t bring himself to delete her number from his phone whereas she apparently didn’t have the same concern. Well then. No wonder she’s engaged to someone else. He tosses his phone onto his desk, the paper into the bin, and turns on his laptop.

****

It’s time to put Regina Mills out of his mind.

****

~ | ~

****

Predictably, he’s still thinking of her later that week. He spends way too much time staring at the last text they’ll ever share now, her _I’m sorry, who is this?_ left unanswered. She didn’t try to contact him further, and his pride refused to let him remind her of what they once had. It would be pointless, anyway.

****

It’s all pointless, including what he’s doing now. But at the time, crashing Iain Gold’s Thanksgiving/engagement party seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. He even talked his friend Mulan into joining him in the venture, and she’s usually the more sensible of his group of friends.

****

That sensibility is in full force now, as Mulan fidgets with her dress. “This is the stupidest idea you’ve had in awhile, Locksley,” she grumbles, holding on tight to his arm with one hand as the other pulls at her hemline. She looks gorgeous, with her dark hair styled in a bun that is somehow elegantly messy, and her tight dress that is a deep red up top fading to a paler shade at the skirt. 

****

“So you’ve said,” he mutters as he tugs uncomfortably at his own tie. The party is of course exceedingly formal, complete with a guest list meant to exclude the rabble like himself. He has his ways of getting into places undetected, though, even fancy schmancy hotels owned by right assholes like Gold.

****

“Well, what exactly do you think this is going to accomplish?” Mulan asks, complete with a piercing glare, and he’s tempted to remind her that she didn’t have a problem with this plan earlier. (Calling it a plan is a bit optimistic; there is no plan other than the one that got them in here.) “It’s been a year. She’s getting married. To someone who has way more to offer her than you.”

****

Robin scowls then, stopping in his surveying of the room to look at her properly. “Whose side are you on anyway, ‘Lan? Because you didn’t have to come if you were so sure this was a terrible idea.”

****

She sighs and shakes her head. “Don’t be like that,” she mutters with a placating hand on his shoulder. “You know I love you like a brother, but what’s the point of this?”

****

“I just want to see her,” he says, as if it’s that simple. Truthfully, he doesn’t know _what_ he wants, or why he’s here, or what seeing Regina in the flesh is supposed to accomplish. But he thinks that so long as he sees her in person on the arm of Gold, then maybe he’ll finally move on. Let go.

****

Mulan stares at him for a long moment, before sighing again. “All right, fine,” she relents, waving her hand toward the crowd of people mingling. “Go find her so you can get this out of your system. I’m going to the bar.”

****

Robin chuckles a little humorlessly as she walks away, resuming his gazing about the room. He edges around the perimeter of it, eyes sharp and alert, searching for any sign of Regina. She’s a small woman, despite the way she commands a room’s attention as if she’s twice her size. It makes it difficult to locate her in this particular crowd, people everywhere laughing and talking and feasting and drinking to excess, so much going on and obscuring her presence. He finds her, finally, damn near all across the bloody side of the ballroom, standing at one of the few tables for guests. Judging by the elaborate centerpiece, this one is specifically for the happy couple and their nearest and dearest.

****

He doesn’t care about Mayor Mills, looking impeccably dressed in a blood red and black evening gown, nor the man seated to her left that he recognizes as Leo, Regina’s dreaded stepfather. No, he only has eyes for the Mayor’s daughter, sitting across from them wearing the glazed expression of someone trying to seem like she’s paying attention. Despite the glossed-over look in her eyes, Regina is a jaw-dropping sight. Her long hair has been tamed into an elegant twist at the nape of her neck, not a curl to be seen (not when her mother is around, of course), and her dress is a royal blue with black lace that leaves a tasteful amount of cleavage exposed.

****

Robin watches her for several long moments, the way she pushes her food around on a plate with her fork, the nervous flick of her eyes to Cora as if she’s afraid she’ll be caught like a little girl playing with her dinner, the canned bit of laughter after Leo exchanges some sort of joke with Iain Gold. He pays very little attention to her fiancé, except for the rare moments when he acknowledges Regina in some manner, such as now, as he turns to her with a wide grin.

****

It is probably only Robin’s uncharitable assessment that the grin Gold wears is predatory, but it is that, especially as Gold raises Regina’s hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

****

Regina blushes, or shifts uncomfortably (Robin will go with that one, he thinks), pulling her hand away and fidgeting with it at her ear before remembering she has no loose lock to tuck behind. He’d seen her do that nervous habit numerous times in the all-too-brief year they spent together, and his heart throbs dully seeing her try and perform it now.

****

She settles for sipping her wine — several small sips to mask the gulp he thinks she’d prefer to have. Either way, she manages to finish off her glass, and soon she’s rising from her seat. He’s too far away to hear anything said, but he can get the gist of it: Regina, pointing to her empty glass; Cora, frowning tightly and murmuring some sort of remark about going through one glass of bloody wine. Regina soldiers on (for once in her life, Robin thinks bitterly), and heads off toward the bar.

****

Now’s his chance.

****

He makes his way through the crowd, pushing past people perhaps a bit too forcefully, but he cuts her off a safe distance from her table.

****

“Oh, sorry, excuse me,” she says, not even looking at him, trying to brush past, and he shouldn’t get angry over it, but he wonders how many times she’s going to brush him off whether she means to or not.

****

“No, excuse me,” he replies tersely, voice harsh enough that he gets her attention properly this time. Or maybe she actually remembers what he sounds like. (He doesn’t think at all about how long it’s been since he heard her voice in person.)

****

Regina looks up at him, really looks, her mouth falling open in a stunned gasp that still looks becoming on her. “Robin?” she whispers, like his very appearance is a secret she must keep.

****

Considering he’s technically crashing, he supposes it is.

****

“What the hell are you doing here?” she continues, her head turning to look over her shoulder in the direction of her mother’s table before she’s narrowing her eyes at him. “You were not on the guest list.”

****

“What?” He crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders curling in a little. This was a very, very bad idea. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

****

“No!” Regina is quick to reply, and ouch, that hurts a bit. Even if it makes sense. “Why would I be — _why_ are you here?”

****

“Heard you were getting married,” he says nonchalantly, brings a hand up to scratch at his stubble to really sell how nonchalant he is about this. “Thought I’d come congratulate you in person, since you didn’t know who I was over text.”

****

Her jaw twitches, glare sharpening until he feels the resultant chill in the air, and this time when she looks around, it’s more controlled, more purposeful. “I’m not doing this here,” she growls, suddenly reaching out and grabbing a hold on his arm.

****

Robin lets her tug him about, doesn’t put up a fight as she leads him through a door and into a hallway adjoining the ballroom. Good, it’s probably better if they have this conversation in the relative privacy of the hall instead of in the middle of her engagement party.

****

Once she’s dragged him down the hall enough that the thrum of the party can barely be heard, she rounds on him. “What in the hell possessed you to come here?” she whisper-shouts at him, apparently not confident enough yet to yell at him properly.

****

“To congratulate—”

****

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head and pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you dare give me that, because it’s bull. We haven’t talked in a _year_. Since you walked out of my damn apartment saying you never wanted to see me again. So why are you here now?”

****

Right. He did say that. Because it was almost Thanksgiving, a holiday he couldn’t give two shits about considering he’s not American nor does he really have a family, and yet it had become the center of their argument. More specifically, her insistence they not spend Thanksgiving with her family (not because her mother was a terrible excuse for a human being or her lech of a stepfather would be there, but because of _him_ ).

****

There are several things he could say in this moment, he thinks. He could tell her the truth about how he felt, how the argument was so stupid, a result of his bullheaded nature. He could say he’s missed her or how seeing her on the arm of a man like Iain Gold turns his stomach in its wrongness.

****

He says none of those things. Instead, he settles on, “I guess you found someone you could finally bring home to Mummy, hmm?”

****

Regina is quite well at masking her emotions on a good day, but today is not a good day. He knows it’s not, because he can’t imagine she wanted to be surrounded by all those people she doesn’t really know, or be forced to spend so much of an evening with her mother and Leo Blanchard. Or maybe he’s still got it when it comes to reading her, because her expression doesn’t really change after his barb. Her eyebrows twitch, a movement so small one might think it was simply an involuntary muscle jumping. Robin knows better, can see the grinding motion of her jaw as she grits her teeth and bears the brunt of his accusation.

****

Somehow, even in her barely-held anger, she’s gorgeous.

****

“How dare you,” she scrapes out through clenched teeth, clenched fists. “You don’t even _like_ my mother. I believe you even said you’d rather set yourself on fire before you so much as spent more than fifteen minutes with her. But the moment I suggest we don’t go see her for the holidays, you throw a fit like a child being told he can’t go to the zoo.”

****

Robin scowls at her, taken out from his musings about her angry beauty, and says, “No one wants to hear that they’re the guy you don’t take home to your parents. How was I supposed to react to that, Regina? Did you really think I’d be flattered that you’d rather deign to spend your time with me than go to your family’s all because you’re afraid to stand up to that bitch?”

****

She steps closer, eyes momentarily cutting to the side, looking at the closed door that separates them from the party. Her voice is louder, but still controlled, still trying to keep the peace as she bites out, “You _ass_. Yes, I wanted to spend the holidays with _you_. Why was that so terrible? To want to spend a nice evening together, just the two of us, instead of going to my mother’s mansion to suffer through unending hours of tirades about how you’re not good enough, and I’m not good enough, and dodging that lecherous bastard she married—”

****

Regina cuts herself off, her body tense and trembling, and somehow they’ve gotten quite close during her rant. Robin is keenly aware of her somewhat harsher breathing, the way it’s lifting the bodice of her dress and showcasing her cleavage.

****

Fights had been an all too common occurrence between them. Their natures were both set to the highest level of stubborn, though something they excelled at after fighting was making up. Something he’s remembering now, as her gaze settles on his lips, and his own eyes are darting between her eyes and mouth and back down to that delectable cleavage.

****

Suddenly, the argument they’re having seems… silly. Or rather, the argument from a year ago seems ridiculous in hindsight, now that it’s cost him the woman he loved, and he doesn’t understand why he was such a fool back then.

****

Not that he can tell her that now.

****

“All I heard was that I wasn’t good enough for your stuck-up mother in her fancy house with her rich new husband,” he says, voice softer now, his tone changed. “And all I could think of was all the terrible things your mother ever said to me that you ignored or told me to ignore. You might have wanted to spend one holiday with me, but what about the next year? The year after that? How many holidays could you ignore your mother?”

****

Her lip wobbles, looking at some point near his chin as she admits, “I don’t know. But I thought we could have figured it out.”

****

The anger’s gone, drained out by a newfound emotion of regret, of what could have been.

****

He can’t stop looking at her lips, remembering how much he loved kissing her, holding her. She seems to be struggling, too, eyes drawn, and when he reaches up to cup her cheek, she leans into his palm. God, her skin was always so soft, so warm.

****

Her lips, too, are soft and warm, something he rediscovers as he bends down and touches them with his.

****

Robin’s missed this, missed touching her in this way (in any way, God, he can’t believe he let her go — that _he_ walked out on _her_ ), and even this chaste press of their mouths together has him surging with warmth. He can’t resist deepening the kiss, running his tongue gently over her bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a little suck and God above, she’s opening to him, letting him in. He’s too caught up in her to be embarrassed by the tiny moan that slips out of him, too busy mentally kicking himself over being such an idiot.

****

It’s his hand sliding from her cheek to her neck, the tips of his fingers just brushing her hair, that snaps her out of it. She pushes him back, their lips parting with a smack, and she’s staring at him with wide eyes. “We can’t—” she starts, unnecessarily, because of course they can’t. She’s getting married.

****

“I know,” he interrupts, and he should let her go.

****

Robin has just stepped back, his hand back at his side where it should be, when the door down at the other end of the hall opens. Iain Gold steps out, looking the opposite way and then towards him and Regina. He’s too far away to make out the other man’s expression, but he imagines it’s not a good one.

****

Regina turns around at Robin’s forward tilt of his head, as Gold stalks toward them in a grand impression of an angry, predatory cat.

****

“Regina,” he says, voice thick and syrupy, “I wondered where you’d gotten off to, my dear. Is everything okay here?” His eyes land on Robin, looking him up and down as a little sneer crosses his lips.

****

She smiles at her fiancé, a tight little thing that draws Robin’s attention to her lips and the smudged lipstick there. He subconsciously brings his hand to his mouth, trying to discreetly wipe any remains on his own lips, but Gold’s sharp gaze narrows.

****

“Everything’s fine, dear,” she tells him, and doesn’t shrug off Gold’s possessive hand when he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

****

“And who’s this? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

****

Robin squares his shoulders but doesn’t offer his hand, or anything more than, “Robin. I’m a friend of Regina’s.”

****

“Oh really?” Gold makes a show of thinking it over, even taps his chin with the tip of his index finger. “She’s never mentioned a Robin before. Nor do I remember a Robin on the guest list.”

****

The threat is implicit, and Robin wants to punch the smug git right in his smirking mouth. His hand forms a fist; he can see it perfectly, the way Gold’s condescending expression would slacken into shock over being blatantly assaulted.

****

He doesn’t. Not least because getting arrested is the last thing he wants to do, especially when a man like Gold is involved.

****

Robin nods his head in a manner that’s not quite the respectful acknowledgement the gesture is supposed to be, mutters a too tight, “Congratulations,” to the happy couple, and then he walks away.

****

He’s letting go.

****

~ | ~

****

November gives way to December, and Storybrooke is blanketed in Christmas cheer. The holiday is everywhere, from the stores pumping out Bing Crosby and Mariah Carey, to the twinkling lights strung over every imaginable surface, to the weather itself depositing snow and ice over the town. It’s a wonderful time of year for most people, and yet, Robin is very much the Grinch up on his mountain (or on his barstool).

****

“Y’know, it’s much too early to be drinking, mate,” Will says from his place behind the bar, even as he slides a tumbler of whiskey over to Robin.

****

“Good thing I’m friends with the owner,” Robin grunts, downing the measure in a quick gulp, wincing at the burn in his throat. Of course Will isn’t wasting the top shelf stuff on him.

****

It’s the eve of Christmas Eve, and Regina is getting married.

****

Everyone’s talking about the wedding, or maybe not everyone, but Robin has heard enough people mentioning it offhand that it seems like everyone. Any reminder of the event has him on edge, his skin flushing hot with annoyance. It’s been weeks since that kiss in the hallway, since the realization that they were idiots over a year ago. In hindsight, it seems so obvious that it was all a stupid misunderstanding.

****

If only hindsight had happened a little sooner.

****

“Are you really going to mope here all day?” Will asks as he wipes down Robin’s glass. It’s a bit early to cut him off (though technically, he shouldn’t be drinking yet anyway), in Robin’s opinion.

****

He scowls at him in response. “I’m sorry, is my angst ruining your morning?”

****

Will shakes his head, his sigh sounding a bit ridiculously long-suffering to Robin’s ears. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant is, in my estimation there seems to be two things you could do. This bird of yours is getting married; either you need to move on—”

****

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that?”

****

“—or you can go to that bloody hotel she’s getting married in and try and win her back.”

****

Robin blinks once, twice, several times at him. “Do you… really think that’d work?” 

****

“Probably not, but I’d say anything to get you out of here right now before you drink all my booze.”

****

His scowl only deepens, but he stands nonetheless and tosses enough money for his drinks and a tip. “Thanks for the advice, mate,” he grumbles, buttoning up his coat before he’s walking out into the bitter December chill. Maybe he needs new friends. Better friends who support him through his — no, okay, he knows he’s being ridiculous. There’s no sense in being moon-eyed over Regina when today she’s going to walk down the aisle and vow herself to another man. Will was right, even if he already knew he needed to get over her.

****

He shouldn’t have kissed her last month, because he can still taste her. Something about seeing her, talking to her, and yes, tasting her again, has made her more real than she’s felt in the past year. He’s infected by her, addicted, and it’s that impulse to see her _one more time_ that has him hailing a cab with the instruction to drive to Gold’s hotel.

****

The spirit of Christmas must be with him, because traffic is surprisingly kind and even the weather proves to not be much of an obstacle. Robin is out of the car and walking into the hotel lobby, decorated to the gills with wreaths and fairy lights and even boughs of mistletoe and holly. It’s a bit much, and Robin uncharitably blames Gold as he makes his way toward the grand ballroom. He assumes that same ballroom that celebrated their engagement would be the place where their winter wedding ceremony would take place, and sure enough, as he gets near he sees a small line of people filtering into the ballroom. There are security guards at the door, dressed in tuxedos, as a short brunette woman checks off guest after guest on a clipboard.

****

Well. He certainly fits right in with his jeans and cable-knit sweater.

****

Standing there, Robin suddenly has to face the fact that he has no idea what he’s doing, what he’s going to do. Even if he had some grand plan of interrupting the wedding itself, it’s clear by the security guards stationed at the main entrance (and, as a quick survey proves, _every_ entrance) that he doesn’t stand a chance of getting in.

****

At least the ceremony hasn’t started yet.

****

He should find Regina, she must be somewhere in the hotel getting ready, surely. But if there’s so much security around the wedding itself, he’s sure there must be security around her, and it all seems so hopeless now.

****

A cacophony of bells has him looking up in shock, surprised to see an extremely petite, elegantly dressed blonde woman with a terribly stressed expression as she and a couple of other well-dressed people pick up a spilled box of bells.

****

“Ugh, we were supposed to have these ready for Belle to hand out at the door,” the woman is grumbling at herself, and Robin would recognize that Australian accent anywhere.

****

“Tink!” he exclaims a bit too gratefully, rushing over to her and grasping her by her biceps. “Where’s Regina?”

****

Tink — Regina’s trusted assistant, thank God some things don’t change — blinks at him in confusion. “Robin?” she says, her brows knitting together as she takes him in. “You weren’t invited.”

****

“Right, thanks for stating the obvious,” he replies with a roll of his eyes. “I need to speak to Regina, Tink. Where is she?”

****

“She’s getting ready _for her wedding_.” She draws out the last three words for him, staring at him as if he’s grown a second head.

****

“Great, can you take me to her?”

****

She hesitates for a too-long moment, something that has Robin sighing in frustration and raking a hand through his hair. He’s not sure what he could say to convince her, when Tink is reaching for him, pulling him away as she directs the person helping her with the bells to take them to Belle. Once they’re tucked away in a little hallway away from the entrance to the ballroom, she rounds on him, “What the hell are you doing?”

****

Robin thinks this is rather becoming a pattern, women just dragging him off and asking him what he’s doing. Not really something he’d like to keep repeating, and yet here he is. “Look, I made a mistake a year ago—”

****

“No kidding, Robin. I think the key words there are ‘a year ago.’”

****

“I know, okay, I _know_. But I saw her at the engagement party, and we talked and I was an idiot _again_ and let her walk away. This is my last chance to make it right, Tink.” He knows how crazy this sounds, even to his own ears, but that doesn’t stop him from pleading, “Please, let me see her. I know you know where she is and that you can get me there.”

****

Tink bites her lip, and Robin gets it, because she could get into a lot of trouble over this. But he knows Tink has always liked him, and she liked him and Regina together, something he’s banking on to sway her opinion now.

****

“Fine, I’ll take you to her,” she relents, even as she shakes her head. “I swear if she sacks me for this, Robin—”

****

“She won’t, I promise, I’ll take full blame for everything,” he tells her, quickly following after her as she leads him to an elevator. The entire ride up to the floor, Tink is muttering about how this is a terrible idea, how Regina is going to be upset, how there is a wedding happening and—

****

_Ding_.

****

“This way,” she sighs, leading him down the hall, stopping in front of a door and motioning for him to stay back a moment. Pulling out a key card, Tink unlocks the door and peeks her head in. “Regina? I have someone who wants to see you.”

****

Robin can’t hear Regina’s response, but Tink steps back and waves him in. Taking a deep breath, he walks forward, stepping into the lavish suite that also looks as if Christmas exploded there. He doesn’t care about the decoration, though, not when Regina is sitting there, wrapped in a robe as a stylist does her makeup and hair.

****

She meets his eyes in the mirror, her mouth dropping open before she snaps it closed. “Ruby, could you give me a moment?” she asks, and Ruby straightens up, blinking at her.

****

“We’re already running behind today…” Ruby seems to notice Robin’s presence for the first time, her mouth forming an “O” before she’s nodding. “Sure. I’ll go grab some coffee and a scone.”

****

Robin steps aside so that Ruby can exit the room, and then it’s just the two of them, Regina twisting around on her chair to look at him. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail, holding it away from her face, and he assumes he must have interrupted Ruby doing her makeup — she looks perfect to him, but he can tell she’s not wearing that much on her face yet.

****

“Robin. Why are you here?” she asks, and she sounds… tired. Stressed.

****

He walks closer to her, so that he’s not a room away, and he can see better now, the way the makeup doesn’t quite entirely mask the dark circles under her eyes. And nothing can hide the pinch in her brow or the vein in her forehead that always comes out when she’s feeling too much.

****

“Because I fucked up,” he says in a rush, talking quickly because he doesn’t know when Ruby or Tink might come back, or if Regina will even let him speak. “You said so yourself, we could have figured it out, but I didn’t give us that chance.”

****

“So what, you think _now_ we can fix it? On my wedding day?” she scoffs, arms crossing under her breasts, and he steels himself to not stare at the way her robe gaps with the action.

****

“Do you want to go through with the wedding?” Robin asks her, impulsively, and Regina’s face changes into something more surprised.

****

“What?”

****

“Why are you marrying Gold? Do you love him?” he presses, and he’s standing right in front of her at the chair now.

****

She’s scowling again, shaking her head. “That is none of your business, Robin. You lost that privilege when you walked out on me,” she points out, looking away from him.

****

“I know, okay? I said I messed up. I got angry and hurt, and I let that ruin us. But we can have a second chance, Regina.”

****

Regina’s scowl worsens as she stands up, her eyes narrowing at him in her anger. “Oh, can we? You _left_ me, Robin. Not to mention the terrible things you said to me before all that and not speaking to me for a year.”

****

He ducks his head in shame at that.

****

“And am I supposed to be wooed by how you didn’t contact me again until you saw I was marrying someone else? Possessiveness isn’t attractive, Robin.”

****

“It’s not possessiveness!” Robin snaps, can’t help the swell of annoyance he feels. “God, Regina, if you really want to marry Gold that badly, then fine. I’ll leave right now. But I wanted you to know that I’m sorry, that I know I screwed everything up, and that I still love you. I know I acted like a child. And I couldn’t let you marry that man without saying it, and without telling you you’re better than him. You don’t have to marry him just to appease your mother or because I was careless with your heart.”

****

Regina stays quiet during his outburst, her face stony and impassive as he speaks until the very end. Her lips purse, her fingers digging harder into the plush material of her robe, and her eyes have suddenly become shiny.

****

He sighs, the fight gone from him now that he’s said his piece. “All right then,” he mutters, looking away from her for a moment. “I wish you the best, Regi—”

****

Before he knows what’s happening, Regina has a fistful of his sweater, tugging him into her as her mouth slants over his. His brain freezes, completely thrown by the change, but Regina has her arms around his neck now, her tongue sliding over his lips which instinctively open. Time slows for a moment before speeding up, his mind re-engaging so that he can kiss her back properly, one hand instinctively seeking out the nape of her neck. His other hand wraps around her waist, hauling her closer to him, and he breaks the kiss for just a second. Pulling back just enough that her features aren’t blurry, so that he can see her eyes, and the shininess from before has disappeared.

****

He’s spent too much time not kissing her when he could have been, though, so he dives back in, captures her mouth and resolves to never stop again. At least, not until she stops him.

****

Regina parts their lips, her head tilting to the side, breath gasping out of her as he trails kisses over her jaw, down her neck. God, she smells amazing, familiar, and she sounds incredible, soft little noises escaping her as he laves his tongue over the cord in her neck. He can’t resist sucking at her pulse, and Regina fucking _moans_.

****

He stops kissing her, presses his forehead against her shoulder while he tries to rein himself in. “God, Regina,” he murmurs, “I need you to not do that or I’m going to fuck you right here.”

****

She trembles against him, and he lifts his head, catches her biting her lip when he should be doing that instead. She’s looking at him from under her lashes, before she leans in and flicks her tongue over his lip. “Keep kissing me and maybe I’ll let you.”

****

_Fuck_.

****

He forgot what a tease she could be, how she could give as good as she got. He’s very, very aware that she’s wearing a robe, and very little underneath. And he would be lying if he said some primal part of him doesn’t want to take her now, when she should be getting ready for her wedding.

****

Robin leans in, a breath away, and says, “I might have to test that theory.” Before she can say anything smart back, he’s kissing her again, this time taking control of it. She moans for him again, and she knows what she’s doing with that, and it emboldens him. He moves his hand from her nape, sliding it down her chest until he reaches the tie of her robe.

****

For a moment, he hesitates, waiting for her to stop him, to say no, but she holds him to her with one hand in his hair, her nails scraping over his scalp. Her other hand finds his at her waist, and when she starts tugging at the tie on her own, his breath rushes out of him in relief.

****

He stops kissing her to watch this, to help her open the robe and reveal herself to him, and God, he can’t believe he ever gave this gift up. She’s wonderfully bare beneath her robe, a gauzy white bra and lacy underwear, and he thinks he must have died on the cab ride over here. There’s no way he’s gotten this lucky.

****

“Fucking stunning,” he growls, and then he’s dipping his head to her breasts, delightfully lifted by her bra just for him. He doesn’t even bother to remove it, preferring instead to adjust the cup until she’s bared to his mouth, tracing the swell with his lips before teasing her nipple.

****

She’s always been wonderfully responsive, but the desperate moan that bursts from her throat surprises him with its intensity from just a bit of his tongue against her sensitive skin.

****

“Mmm, do you like that, darling?” he asks unnecessarily, sucking her in hard and feeling her arch into his mouth. He releases her with a pop, and thinks about Iain Gold. “Has it been awhile, hmm?”

****

“God, Robin,” she moans again, a bit exasperatedly. “Don’t start.”

****

“Want me to stop?” he teases, raising his head and smirking at her. Her dark eyes are impossibly darker, her lips swollen.

****

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t sound nearly as annoyed as he thinks she’s trying to be when she says, “That’s not what I meant.”

****

He shouldn’t push, but he sharpens his grin as he frees the other swell from her bra, nipping at her this time. “I know. But I think it has, or at least, it’s been awhile since you were properly seen to.” Robin can almost hear her teeth gritting, and he chuckles softly around his mouthful of her breast. “Tell me, does he make you feel like I did?”

****

“Do you really want to hear about all the things Iain and I did together, or do you want to fuck me yourself?” Regina counters, using her grip on his hair to lift his head. “Because I have very little interest in stroking your ego that way and I certainly won’t be stroking anything else if you keep this up.”

****

Okay, fair enough.

****

Robin relents, touches his lips to hers in a gentle, placating kiss. “Changing tack. How about you tell me what you want me to stroke?” he says, and she hums her approval.

****

“Now that’s more like it.”

****

He waits dutifully for her suggestion, and she reaches for his hand, slides it down her abdomen to the elastic of her underwear. He expected this, really, he did, he had an idea that this is where this was going, and yet his mouth still runs dry thinking about touching her _like this_ after so long. He doesn’t say anything, absolutely does not want to fuck this up, so he keeps his mouth shut and slides his hand into her panties and down, down, down.

****

The groan that leaves him would be embarrassing if he gave a damn, but he doesn’t in this moment. All that matters is her right now, and how she’s so wonderfully warm for him, and how she’s growing wet for him as his fingertips brush over her sex. He watches her, the way her head tilts back and her mouth falls open in a gasp, and he’s mesmerized, committing everything about her to memory while he brings her pleasure.

****

She moans sharply when he touches her clit, slow but firm circles right over her nub that he remembers she always loved as a warmup. Nothing has changed, it seems, because those circles still have her lighting up, have her gripping his bicep and shoulder, delicious gasps falling from her lips.

****

He kisses her then, swallowing those gasps, drinking them in and he thinks maybe he should drink _her_ in. It’s been so long since he’s tasted her, he could drop to his knees right now and eat her until she’s screaming for him, but he likes the closeness they have right now, the intimacy of kissing her and pressing his forehead to hers as his hand works her. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs into her ear, his fingers sliding down, slipping on the wetness building for him. He circles her entrance, whispering to her, “Missed this,” as one finger presses in, and she gasps softly, his name falling from her lips. He strokes her just like that, drawing back and pushing in again, until he’s adding a second finger, drawing another pleasured sound from her throat.

****

“That’s it,” he breathes out, fuck, she’s so tight. His cock hardens, his jeans growing uncomfortable as he fingers her. He shifts a bit, turns half a step and with his arm around her back, maneuvers her until she’s pressed against the vanity. It’s better, gives her something to use as support and frees his other hand up.

****

The angle is better, too, lets his fingers slide deeper inside of her, and he curls them, searching. He’s just about got it, knows he’s almost found that spot, and he says, “I’ve missed the sound you make when I do this—” She arches, a sharp whimper escaping her as his fingers brush against her g-spot, and he smirks. “Yes,” he hisses, ducking his head and nipping at her neck, the long column of it exposed as her head falls back, “just like that, Regina.”

****

“Fuck,” she moans, her hips beginning to twitch, trying to buck onto his fingers as he drives them into her, his pace increasing now that he’s found that spot. “Robin, don’t stop.”

****

“I wouldn't dream of it,” he promises, seals it with a heated kiss that she can’t maintain. Her breath is quickening, her gasps and moans growing in pitch as he pleasures her, and fucking hell, she’s a sight. Her chest flushed, eyes half-lidded, perfect lips moving, forming words he can’t quite make out. “Fuck, Regina, tell me you’re gonna come.”

****

She whines in her throat, nodding her head. “Uh-huh,” she barely manages to get out, and, “God, Robin, I’m — mmm! Feels so good!”

****

“I’ve missed that, too; the way you say my name when I’m inside you,” he groans into her neck, fucking her harder, faster, wishing it was his cock inside of her instead of his fingers. “Say it again, Regina, let me hear you.”

****

“Unhh! Fu—Robin! More! I need — oh!”

****

He can feel her getting impossibly tighter, wetter with every thrust, and he knows she’s close, so close. He adjusts his hand, makes sure that his palm smacks against her clit on every push, and she cries out in response.

****

“Yes, like that! Right there, don’t stop — I’m so — oh, God — I’msoclose!”

****

“Come for me, Regina, I wanna hear it,” he tells her, and bless her, she does. Cries out for him as she trembles, her inner muscles clenching around his fingers, and she shouts his name, and he’s still talking to her. Murmuring how beautiful she is, how he missed making her come, loves seeing her fall apart all for him, and as she sags against the vanity, he whispers into her mouth, “I love you.”

****

Regina moans softly into the kiss, her head dropping to his shoulder as she breathes heavily. They trade gentle kisses as he draws his fingers out of her, her head falling back as she clenches with a tiny aftershock. When she chuckles, he looks up at her, confused.

****

“What’s so funny?” he asks, perhaps a little bruised that she’d be laughing about anything right now.

****

She points up, and Robin tears his eyes away from her to look at the top of the vanity mirror, at the little sprig of hanging there. “Mistletoe,” she says unnecessarily, and he smirks.

****

“Perhaps we should kiss some more, just to make sure we did it right?” he suggests, mostly to make her laugh again.

****

“Oh, I think we did it just fine,” she grins, and he cups her cheek in his hand, thumb stroking over the apple.

****

“I’ve missed this elusive smile, too,” he says it to her like a secret, and enjoys the blush lingering on her skin.

****

The knock on the door startles them, and Regina’s smile disappears the second she hears Tink’s tentative voice calling her name. “Everyone’s starting to wonder where you are,” Tink continues on the other side of the door.

****

“Shit! Come in, Tink,” Regina calls back, tugging at her clothes, adjusting her breasts back into her bra and tying her robe tight.

****

Robin, for his part, stands there with his wet fingers and abating erection, unsure of what to do as her assistant and her stylist rush in. Suddenly everything is a flurry of activity as Ruby calls in an entire team of people, and before he knows it, he’s getting pushed out as Regina is helped into her wedding dress.

****

~ | ~

****

Despite his completely wrong attire, Robin manages to sneak past the security stationed at the ballroom. Finds a nice little corner to hide in, with a perfect view of the dais for the happy couple to stand on and proclaim their vows. The entire affair has suddenly become quite tense, with the ceremony running behind schedule (what with the bride-to-be too busy being fingerfucked to get ready for her special day) and quite a few people are gossip-mongering already. Nonetheless, Iain Gold stands at the altar, surrounded by an arch covered in mistletoe, and Robin smirks a little.

****

He hasn’t seen Regina since their rendezvous, and he has no idea what to expect. He knows what he’s wishing for, but well, it’s not as if he and Regina got a chance to talk.

****

The organist starts playing the Wedding March, the guests all standing and turning for a glimpse of the bride. Robin can’t quite see her through the crowds, not until she’s right there, led up to Gold by her mother (of course).

****

She’s breathtaking in her glorious designer dress, he can’t deny that. Nor can he deny the way his heart twinges as she turns to face Gold and the priest starts to speak. He can see her face from this angle, picked the perfect place to stand, and he can see the way she’s trying to look around without making it obvious.

****

Robin bites his lip, and moves ever-so-slightly out of his shadows to meet Regina’s eyes. With a smirk, he deliberately brings his hand up to his mouth, sucking the two fingers he had inside of her. He can still taste her on his skin.

****

There is too much distance for him to hear her gasp, but he sees it, the way her lips part and she inhales sharply. And then she’s turning to the priest, shaking her head, pulling her hands from Gold.

****

“Stop,” she says, “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to get married.”

****

The reaction from the congregation is immediate, though it is Mayor Mills who stands up and says, “Regina! What are you talking about?!”

****

Robin walks out from his hiding place, unnoticed with all the commotion, and he can see how calm Regina is as she turns to her mother.

****

“I’m not marrying Iain, Mother,” she says, and she might as well be speaking some known truth of the universe, with all the certainty in her tone. 

****

“What has gotten into you?” Cora exclaims, and Robin chuckles, almost to the dais now.

****

“Me,” he says cheekily, not even looking at the mayor as Regina looks at him in shock. “Shall we?” He offers his hand to her, winking as she smiles down at him.

****

“Regina!” Gold reaches for her arm, grasping it a bit too harshly for Robin’s liking. “What are you doing? Do you know what I could do to you? To your family’s name?”

****

“I. Don’t. Care,” Regina hisses, snatching her arm free, and Robin could kiss her. Rather thinks he will do just that, later. She steps from the altar, tucking her hand into Robin’s arm, and he starts to lead her back down the aisle.

****

Cora stalks after them, yelling at Regina to get back here, to get back up to that altar. “What do you think you’re doing, young lady? This is your life you’re running away from!” she shouts, and that’s when Regina lets go of Robin, spinning on her heel.

****

“No, Mother,” she growls, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “That’s not my life; it’s _yours_. And I’m tired of living my life the way you want it to be, instead of doing what I want. Goodbye.”

****

Robin’s heart almost bursts at those words, and at the way Regina loops her arm through his once more, holding on tight as they walk away from her mother. This is — this is huge, and he knows this isn’t the end of it, but he’s so impossibly proud of her right now. 

****

As they reach the door, something catches his eye, and he stops her.

****

She looks at him, and then glances up as he indicates something above their heads. A grin crosses her lips as she meets his gaze again.

****

“Mistletoe,” he says, before pulling her into a kiss in front of her mother, her (ex-)fiancé, and all her wedding guests. He stops before it gets too steamy, pressing their foreheads together and breathing her in, even dropping a tiny peck to the tip of her nose.

****

“I love you,” she tells him then, breathlessly, and he can’t stop smiling.

****

He kisses her once more, quickly, cupping her cheek and keeping his eyes on hers. “Ready for a new adventure?”

****

“With you? Always.”

****


End file.
